


Move the Heart, Switch the Pace

by embroiderama



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and Sara make plans for a night out, but nothing with the two of them ever quite goes as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move the Heart, Switch the Pace

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [](http://slytheringurrl.livejournal.com/profile)[**slytheringurrl**](http://slytheringurrl.livejournal.com/) for [](http://wcpairings.livejournal.com/profile)[**wcpairings**](http://wcpairings.livejournal.com/). Thank you to [](http://winterstar95.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://winterstar95.livejournal.com/)**winterstar95** for the beta. Title from "Cuts You Up" by Peter Murphy.

Neal looked up from his easel, startled at the sound of a knock on the door. It was too light to be Peter, and if Mozzie bothered to knock he always chose some particular meter. June would usually call out as well as knock, but Neal couldn't think of anybody else who would be likely to show up unannounced, especially on a Sunday afternoon. He put down his paint brush and walked over to answer the door, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't be put out by his half-dressed state.

"Hello!" Sara said, then her eyes narrowed and she looked past Neal into the apartment. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Just the creative process." Neal stood back to let Sara inside. She looked fantastic as always, wearing her version of weekend casual--a shoulder-baring blouse, slim-fit dark jeans, and four-inch heels.

She walked over to look at the canvas then laughed, throaty and sexy, not mockingly. "I don't know if it counts as creative if you're making a forgery."

"Reproduction," Neal corrected her.

"Of course."

"You know, I want to apologize for our dinner being interrupted last week. _Again_. Do you think you might be up for giving it another chance?"

"You know you're cute when you're apologetic." She raised one sculpted eyebrow and looked Neal up and down. "Though the fact that you're half-naked doesn't hurt."

Neal grinned, pleased. "So, dinner? Next Friday night? The new seafood place you were talking about?"

"Hmm, that sounds like it might be good, just as long as we can avoid murderous women and natural disasters."

"I'll do my best. So we've got a date?"

"Yes, Caffrey, it's a date."

"Good." Neal moved in closer then and, after checking that his hands were clean, reached out to touch the small of Sara's back and draw her closer. "So why did you come over to visit today?"

She laughed again and leaned in until her lips were barely an inch away from Neal's, her blouse soft against his chest. "I thought you might have a little bit of free time this afternoon."

"I absolutely, definitely do."

The creative process, Neal decided, could wait.

~~~

Neal sat at the back of the ambulance, wincing as the paramedic cleaned the long jagged scratches on his left arm, and cursed his luck. His right arm was already bandaged, and his suit was already ruined so Neal reached into his jacket where it was folded up next to him and pulled out his phone. He was supposed to meet Sara for dinner in an hour, and he'd be lucky to get home by that time, not to mention that _El Narval Plata_ wasn't likely to let him in with his clothes blood splattered and glittery with embedded pieces of broken glass. Steeling himself for Sara's reaction, Neal pressed the button to call her.

"You better be calling me to confirm that you will, in fact, be meeting me in an hour."

"Well--"

Sara made a very loud, very frustrated sounding noise. "Don't tell me there's a natural disaster coming. How many murderous widows can there be in New York?"

"Does it help if this was more of a desperate house-husband?"

"Not really." Sara laughed then, audibly letting her frustration go. "So, how late are you going to be?"

Theoretically Neal could go home, clean up, change, and get to the restaurant by 8pm, but his arms were already starting to feel sore and as much as he wanted to see Sara he wasn't in the mood for wining and dining her. "Well--"

"You're cancelling on me?" The affront in her voice hurt but he knew it was well earned on his part.

"I want to see you. I _really_ want to see you, but things went a little sideways with the case today."

"Are you in jail?"

"No! Give me a little credit."

"Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice deeper, but softer as well

"Nothing bad, but I'm a mess. Can we reschedule?"

"Are we talking hospital-level mess here?"

"No, not even any stitches." _As long as you don't count butterfly strips._

"Then I'll pick up food, and we can make it dinner in rather than dinner out. What do you say?"

"I say I'll be home in an hour."

"I'll meet you there. Anything particular you want to eat?"

"Surprise me."

In a gentle tone, she replied, "Always. Just take care of yourself, Caffrey."

Neal hung up the phone and smiled at the paramedic, suddenly feeling a lot less cursed.

~~~

Neal was hoping to be able to get home and change before Sara arrived, but as Neal got out of Peter's car her cab pulled up behind them. Neal waves good-bye to Peter then walked over and held her door open, suppressing a wince at the pull of the butterfly strips on his wounds. She climbed out, wearing jeans and heels again and carrying a purse big enough to be an overnight bag as well as a large paper shopping bag.

"Well, you look refreshingly whole." She smirked then leaned in and kissed him.

"Just a flesh wound." Neal flashed her a grin and played the smile up further when she shook her head.

They walked inside and up the stairs together, Neal doing his best to ignore the slight twinge in his knee from hitting the ground earlier. He wasn't looking forward to how that knee was going to feel once it stiffened up, but he'd been banged up enough to know it wasn't serious.

When they entered Neal's apartment Sara put the bag of food down on the kitchen counter and busied herself by opening one of their favorite reds to drink with dinner. Neal walked over to his bed, where he had some casual clothes folded up, and started the process of carefully removing his suit jacket. The jacket itself was relatively unscathed because he hadn't been wearing it when he got hurt, but he'd bled all over the inside of the sleeves, and more blood was hidden by the dark fabric of his pants. His white shirt, on the other hand, didn't hide anything at all.

"Oh my god!" Sara had one hand wrapped around a glass of wine and the other covering her mouth when Neal turned to look at her.

"It looks worse than it is, I promise." The sleeves of Neal's shirt were stained with blood from the elbows down; with more stains on his sides from before he'd slipped his jacket on to hide the damage until he was ready to get it taken care of.

"I should hope so. It looks like you got mauled by a wild animal."

"I fell through some glass, but they're all minor scratches, nothing dire."

"Let me see." Sara stepped closer and passed her glass of wine to Neal before gently pushing back his open cuffs and looking at the long, bandaged cuts that ran up the front and back sides of his forearms. "Jesus, Neal, you were lucky."

"I didn't feel too lucky at the time."

"I'm sure, but you know what I mean." She traced the lines of Neal's wounds, her finger hovering just above the bandages, and there was something in the earnest look on her face that made Neal swallow back a wave of emotion.

Peter had been worried, his eyes frantic at the blood on Neal's shirtsleeves, but once it was clear Neal's injuries were minor he had relaxed and gone off to take care of securing the scene. If Mozzie had been there, he would have warned Neal about the bacterial menace but kept his distance. And Kate--Kate had never wanted to see the dark side of a con. If things got too messy she would disappear until they were straightened out again, and Neal hadn't minded. He had only wanted to show her the best of life, after all, and the best didn't include any kind of emergencies, minor or otherwise.

As hard as Sara could be, she was also tough in a way that let Neal know she could handle the ugly things as well as the beautiful ones. It was strange for Neal to have this kind of attention, to have somebody's hands on him when he was nursing wounds at the end of a bad day. Peter would be there if Neal needed him, there was no doubt of that, but Neal wasn't hurt badly enough to need help. He just wanted somebody to touch him as if even the small hurts mattered. He just wanted Sara.

Neal thought about just changing into sleep pants and a t-shirt, but he didn't like the idea of looking quite that much like a slug next to Sara so he pulled on khaki pants and a short-sleeved shirt. Sara had ditched her heels, so Neal went barefoot too, and he met her at the table where she had salads, sushi, and miso soup set out in an array of take-out containers.

"This looks great. I'm sorry our date got ruined again."

"I don't know, I wouldn't call this ruined. Your suit, yes. This evening? I think it has potential." Sara grinned, and Neal tugged on her belt to pull her in for a quick kiss before sitting down to eat.

Neal wasn't in the mood for salad, but the soup was the perfect thing to calm the unsettled feeling he'd had since the second he'd realized there was no way to avoid going through the glass. Sara had ordered the kind of sushi Neal loved best: fish, rice and vegetables, simple and beautiful and perfect. Spanish seafood would have to wait for another weekend, another date that might actually have a chance of going as planned.

When the leftovers were stowed and the trash thrown out, Neal kissed Sara again, tasting the burn of the wasabi she loved so much more than he did. "Will you think less of me if I say I like the idea of spending the rest of the evening on the couch?"

She smiled and shook her head. "You know, Caffrey, you're not an action hero. You're allowed to admit that getting hurt _hurts_. Speaking of which, what did you do to your knee?" Sara raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't give me that innocent look, I saw you trying not to limp when you got up from the table."

"It's just a little bit sore from landing on it hard. It's fine."

"Uh-huh. Go sit."

"Pushy." Neal smiled and grabbed the bottle of wine and their two glasses before walking over to the sofa, limping a little now that there was no point in trying to hide it. It felt good to sit down and sink into the upholstery a little with his leg stretched out on the ottoman, and it felt even better when Sara draped a cloth-wrapped ice pack over his knee and sat down next to him. She curled up with her feet tucked under her and leaned into Neal's shoulder as she took the glass of wine he held out.

They settled on a movie that had done well at the Oscars last year, but Neal found himself drifting a little on the slight buzz of the wine, losing himself in the smell of Sara's hair from her head resting on his shoulder, and the delicate touch of her hand where it was tucked between his lower back and the sofa cushion. Neal's arms ached, and he was disappointed that his evening with Sara hadn't turned out the way he'd planned, but there were worse ways to end a day than sitting on a couch with a beautiful woman who cared enough to bring him sushi and an ice pack, who cared enough to stay even when things weren't perfect.

If he fell asleep before the end of the movie, he didn't think she would hold it against him.


End file.
